


The only thing that matters -

by alexanger



Series: We're Okay [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Genderfluid Jefferson, Other, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanger/pseuds/alexanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLRUlbyH_D0">- is your heartbeat going strong.</a>
</p>
<p>"That was the worst proposal in the history of the universe.”</p>
<p>[Note: this does not work as a standalone fic. This probably won't do a blessed thing for you if you haven't read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7579648/chapters/17246158">2's my favourite 1</a> first.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only thing that matters -

Lafayette has a  _ thing  _ for fashion scrapbooking. She leaves magazines and newspaper clippings and glue and scissors all over the apartment, overflowing the bedroom she shares with Aaron and scattered on the coffee table in the living room. Alex often complains that, if he finds  _ one more _ copy of Vogue on his bed, he’s moving out - but he can often be found halfway off the couch, flipping through magazines with Lafayette and complaining, “why does guy fashion all look the same? Girls have so many  _ options.” _

When Laf gets a page looking just right, she likes to show it off to Aaron. He can’t really understand the way she arranges the pages, but there’s always some sort of theme: all the outfits, for example, have a navy accent, or a floral pattern, or a surfeit of tassels. She has a way of making these pages full of skinny white models into art; Aaron delights in the way she shows them off, shy, hesitant, but undeniably proud of all the work she’s put into it.

So when he steals one of the books, he knows he’s doing something unforgivable. It would be like - well, like stealing part of someone’s soul. But he only takes it long enough to make some photocopies and then returns it to its usual place in the bookcase, on the shelf below his diploma. No harm, no foul; there’s no sign that she ever notices it was missing.

The photocopies are covertly passed on through Alex, who has been in on the plan from the very beginning. He treats the photocopies like contraband, smuggling them to their destination inside one of his notebooks - and he creases them terribly in the process, but that’s fine. They don’t need to be perfect.

And then about a month later, Aaron just receives a text that says, “done,” and he puts down his phone and turns to Lafayette and says, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

 

* * *

 

Aaron settles Lafayette on the couch mid-afternoon the next day and sits on the coffee table in front of her. “Listen,” he says. “I got together a surprise for you.”

Lafayette gives him a dry smile and says, “did you get real groceries?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know that’s too hard. I did something way easier. Herc is just outside in the hallway - you close your eyes, okay?”

Laf shuts her eyes obligingly, and Aaron gets up to open the door for Hercules. There’s the sound of shuffling and bumping, what sounds like metal rubbing against metal, and then Aaron says, “okay, open your eyes.”

And Laf opens her eyes, and immediately shuts them again and puts her hands over her face. “What the fuck,” she says, and then more softly - “what the  _ fuck.” _ She draws a deep breath and then opens her eyes again; they well with tears as she takes in the wheeled garment rack sitting in the living room, which is so crammed with clothing that it’s a wonder it manages to stand upright. Herc and Alex stand at either end, posing like models and pointing at the clothes.

“Surprise,” Aaron says, and Lafayette picks up a couch cushion to hurl at him.

“Jesus! This is excessive, what are you even -”

“So you can continue to yell at me,” Aaron says, “or you can come look at the pretty clothes Herc made for you and try a bunch of them on.”

“And let me know if you need them adjusted, because I guessed half your measurements and got the rest by catching you napping on the couch,” Herc adds.

Lafayette manages to stand up and move towards the garment rack, and her hands move slowly through the clothes. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“You say thank you, and then you try on this skirt, because I found the  _ cutest  _ fabric and it’ll look amazing on you,” Herc tells her.

“Okay,” Laf chuckles, “you’re right, thank you. Where did you find this?”

“Uh, this one is from thrift store curtains, cause they were the coolest abstract florals I’ve ever seen -” Herc cuts himself off and makes a shooing motion. “No, that isn’t important, just go try it on. Show me what works.”

Hercules is probably a wizard, as Lafayette exclaims about three dozen times; almost everything fits perfectly and most of it makes Lafayette look like a goddess come to earth. She has to laugh at Hercules’s taste, though - after the third flowy crop top, she asks, “so are you just super into my navel or something? Like, you just want to see it all the time?”

“Have you  _ seen _ your abs?” Herc replies, as if that answers the question.

It takes the better part of the afternoon and draws into the evening - and of course this means Aaron sends Alex out to pick up some dinner and that turns into buying alcohol, too, and then they’re all tipsy and watching Lafayette become steadily more and more overwhelmed with the wealth of clothing in front of her - but eventually she works her way through it, and then she just sits on the floor in a daze. “Holy shit,” she says, touching the skirt she’s wearing like she’s afraid it’s going to disappear. “Holy shit.”

And then she has to put everything away, reorganizing the entirety of their shared closet and displacing all of Aaron’s t-shirts (“You don’t need to hang these, you can fold them like a normal human being,” Laf insists, and Aaron just can’t say no to her), lining everything up in rainbow order and despairing over whether or not she should organize by height instead. It’s past midnight by the time everything is finished; Aaron is already in bed and watching her, a tiny smile hovering about his lips.

“If you take any longer, I’m going to go to sleep,” Aaron tells her.

“No you won’t,” Laf says. “You’re going to lay there and complain until I come to bed, because you can’t sleep without me.”

“I mean, that’s true, so why are you torturing me like this?”

“I’m objectively a bad person.” Lafayette undresses slowly, and it’s part strip tease, part reluctance to take off the skirt she’s been wearing all evening. Aaron can’t help but stare.

“The worst,” he agrees. “Turn around, princess, you should show off for me.”

“See, coming from anyone else, that would sound smooth, but you’re just a perma-nerd so … nice try.” 

She turns anyway, swaying her hips as she slips the skirt off, and Aaron makes what was probably meant to be a growling noise but instead just sounds like he’s clearing his throat. Naked, Lafayette slides into bed beside him and snuggles up; Aaron trails a hand over her hips, pausing just above her ass, and asks, “may I?”

“Not tonight,” she says, and it’s then that Aaron notices the tears in her eyes and the quaver in her voice. He holds her close against his chest and kisses her forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she breathes, struggling to hold back the flood. “Like, this is the exact  _ opposite _ of wrong. I just wasn’t expecting any of it, and I love all of it so much, and I felt so  _ pretty _ in those clothes, and I just - I don’t know how to handle this. I’m so happy it hurts.” And then she dissolves into sobs and Aaron rocks her gently, peppering her face with kisses, wiping away the worst of the tears with his hands.

It takes a while, but the sobs slow and finally stop, and then she sniffles and rubs her eyes with her hands and says, “sorry. You’ll probably never see me cry like that again - I don’t usually just lose it like that.”

“What, no more happy crying? If you don’t cry at our wedding I’ll be offended,” Aaron says.

Lafayette stiffens. “What wedding?”

“Haha, yeah, what wedding?” Aaron agrees, “I haven’t heard about any wedding -”

“Are you just Burring things again, or are you - are you implying something, because we haven’t talked about this.”

Aaron’s lips thin into a line and he says, “okay, you can’t freak out, but I may have been, uh, thinking of, you know, marrying you.”

“Thinking of as in, this is a fun fantasy, or thinking of as in -”

“I may have bought a ring,” Aaron admits.

“You keep saying ‘may have,’ like it’s up for debate or something,” Lafayette says. “You bought a ring?” Aaron nods, and she continues, “can I see it?”

“See, I kinda thought I’d never have to show you, but -”

“If you’re gonna think about marrying me you have to show me the ring. That’s the rules.”

Aaron groans in protest, but he disentangles himself from Lafayette to hunt through his desk drawers. The box is in the top drawer, hidden underneath his journal and a stack of sticky notes; he takes a deep breath to steel himself as his fingers close on the box, and then turns to show it to Laf.

It’s rose gold, and one entire half of the band is shaped into delicate leaves and vines and studded with tiny diamonds. Lafayette’s eyes well with tears again and she reaches out to touch it.

“Aaron, you fucking doorknob,” she says, struggling to be intelligible through her tears, “yes, okay, I’ll marry you, but that was the worst proposal in the history of the universe.”

 

* * *

 

The drawback of accidental proposal is -

“Did you even check if we can legally get married?” Lafayette asks. And -

“What’s your timeline for this? Like, if we want to book a nice space, we’re going to be on the waiting list for a  _ while.” _ And -

“Wait, do I wear a dress or a suit? Am I your husband or wife or spouse? What are  _ you _ wearing?” And -

“What’s our last name going to be? Do I change to yours, or you to mine, or do we hyphenate?” And -

“When we tell our friends we’re engaged, I’m going to drag you  _ so hard.” _

That last one is the worst one. “I mean, technically, you could have just gone, ‘oh, referencing the future, nice,’ and left it at that,” Aaron says. “But you didn’t, so this is your fault.”

“Ah, yes, you Burring this is my fault. I see how it is. Here’s the rule, Aaron,” Lafayette says, “your wife is always right. Always. If you think your wife is wrong,  _ you’re _ wrong. And I’m going to be your wife, which means I’m always right.”

Aaron tries to pout but his eyes betray his delight. “Yes, dear,” he says obediently.

Lafayette kisses the top of his head. “Good boy,” she tells him. “Help me go through these magazines. I want ideas for what I’m wearing to our wedding.”

 

* * *

 

Lafayette and Hercules agonize over designs. They settle, eventually, on a design that Lafayette can’t find a name for, although she contemplates “dress-edo” - a mashup, she explains patiently, of tuxedo and dress - for far longer than necessary before giving up and just referring to it as “some kinda suit dress thing.”

“What if I look weird?” she asks for the millionth time, as she and Herc argue over fabric swatches. “Like, what if it just looks - you know,  _ too  _ out there?”

“It’s my professional opinion, as a clothes wizard, that you’re gonna kick approximately all the ass,” Hercules says.

“Okay, but -”

“Butts are for pooping. Wear the thing,” Herc tells her. “Dude, if you  _ don’t _ do it, you’ll regret it. I promise. I’m gonna make it and it’ll be awesome. And also, I’m hand-sewing your bow tie, and I’m almost done the mock up, and if it doesn’t look amazing I’ll eat the pattern. Like, just stuff the whole thing in my mouth and swallow.”

(Both of them pretend they don’t notice the distinct lack of John giggling at the word ‘swallow.’)

 

* * *

 

Of course, Hercules is right.

The skirt is full and trailing, the ruching on the shirt is perfectly even, and every inch of the mock up fits perfectly. It’s hastily tacked together and the seams still need to be finished, as Hercules explains, but it drapes perfectly and Lafayette basks in the feeling of serene beauty that fills her.

“Oh my God,” Aaron says, as she turns slowly and the skirt trails behind her. “Jesus, are you kidding me? I keep thinking you can’t get any more beautiful and then you pull something like this.”

“You’re not supposed to see her before the wedding, dude,” Hercules says.

“I don’t think he could stop looking at me if he tried,” Laf says, and it’s true - Aaron is rapt, watching her every move like he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

“Sometimes you just need to stare at art,” Aaron says, and Alex boos.

“Straight as hell, Pockets,” he says through a mouthful of cereal. “You look really fucking hot though, Laf.”

Lafayette winks at him. “Maybe I should take you to my wedding instead of Aaron.”

“This is bullying,” Aaron protests, but he can’t help but laugh.

 

* * *

 

In the end, the wedding is small - there are no parents, on either side, to invite, mostly because Lafayette is not on speaking terms with her mother. They end up getting married in Central Park, in the French garden of the conservatory, surrounded by flowers; Lafayette’s hair is full of miniature white roses and Aaron wears one as a boutonniere, and they look like garden faeries, almost ethereal in the fading light of the evening. Alexander, Aaron’s best man, cries shamelessly; Angie stands proudly by Lafayette, every inch the perfect maid of honour.

A small wedding means a small reception. They hold it on the terrace of a nearby cafe, revelling in the music and the cake and the compliments lavished on them by their friends. 

And then the reception winds down and they whisk away to the hotel they’re staying in for the night, and it’s like their first time together. They undress each other with the reverence of new lovers, all wandering hands and murmurs of delight and affection, and they tumble together into something that seems almost painfully perfect. Aaron cries a little at the end; Lafayette kisses his tears away, murmuring, “I love you, I love you,” as he shudders and and gasps and then stills against her.

They breathe together in the half-light. Lafayette stirs first, just enough to kiss her husband, and Aaron kisses her back with surprising intensity, considering he can’t even seem to open his eyes.

“So you got the accidental proposal out of the way. What’s next on the list? Accidentally adopting kids with me? Accidentally buying a house with me? Accidentally discovering a new country and naming it after me to declare your love to the world?” Lafayette asks.

Aaron chuckles. “That all sounds great, but what if I start by accidentally loving you for the rest of my life?”

“Alright,” Lafayette says, closing her eyes and curling against him. “I think I can live with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos keep me awake although i am very tired. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


End file.
